


High School Pain/Tragedy

by graywrites



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, F/F, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 19:07:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15346572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graywrites/pseuds/graywrites
Summary: After Lucas breaks up with Riley over the phone, it leaves Maya livid and staring into a void of possibilities that she had tried, for years, to desperately avoid. Because what excuse did she have for keeping her eyes to the ground if not, 'she has a boyfriend?'





	High School Pain/Tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> its the 2 yr anniversary of tuwmd so i hope u like this ! back & worse than ever with a rilaya fic cause uhhhhh. you know. anyways some of this is so wordy and i really can't read cause i started writing this in april and then finished in 25 minutes bc i realized it was the anniversary. sorry for the shitty title i kno it doesnt live up to my past titles but i love u! i might write a second part but i wanted to get this up today since someone on tuwmd said they missed my rilaya fic so this ones for u babe. ALSO it's 11:30 and i wanna get this up before midnight so if u see a grammatical error im sorry i'll reread it after i post it and fix it i promise

 

Maya bathes in city light in the opening of Riley’s window like she’s done countless times before, and she’s angry, because rage is the only way to defend the best thing that she has, and makes her feel cleaner than such a selfish relief she won’t allow to reach her chest. Riley is distraught, crying but not hysterical, silent enough for the time of night so as not to wake anyone, ever-selfless despite the shortcomings of the start of the weekend.

Yes, Maya is angry, has been white-knuckle enraged since a call she received half an hour ago where she could hear passing cars better than Riley’s shaking voice, watery laugh, saying only that she’s been broken up with, but between the lines Maya could read ‘I need you,’ a secret language she’d used many times herself, a friendship-bracelet smoke signal for any time past _late_ when either girl cannot cope in empty silence and needs someone to walk them through the next three hours.

It’s easier for Maya to be angry at an elusive other than to face the bitter taste in her mouth of very quiet triumph rolling beneath where she sat rooted to the Earth, and it makes more sense in her conflicted way to blame only Lucas for this one powerful wrong move of _right now_ \- it’s easier to say, “who would dump Riley over the _phone!?_ ” than to ask anything too much more difficult to answer.

(This is why she doesn’t ask the other questions, harder questions- who would be so relieved to her best friend’s own tragedy? In between heavy denial and a smothering of messier feelings, she bates her own private disgust and indignation towards her own traitorous feelings with lousy justifications- he was no good for her, it wasn’t going to last, it was a waste of her time, she’ll only be upset for the weekend, that’s why Maya’s relieved. It’s just highschool, just highschool, just highschool; that proclamation does not stop Riley’s soft weeping, nor does it alleviate any higher guilt from Maya.)

“He’s just a jerk. I hate him,” Maya proclaimed, holding Riley pressed closed into the crook of her neck, hot tears trailing down her collarbone. She felt like a liar; she felt fake. Her chest rung out in a mocking tone- who was she to comfort Riley, when part of Maya had done nothing but wish for this?

No, that had to be wrong- she’d practically set the two up, and despite her (biased) better judgement, she’d been selfless- she’d like to say so, but she couldn’t be so sure. Was sealing her own fate easier than watching vague chances slip away?

Nothing seemed _easy_ anymore.

“He’s the worst,” Maya reiterated, speaking in clear statements to stop her own tailspin into far too long ago.

 She’d get a smile out of Riley yet- Lucas was just a boy. Riley’s boy, maybe, but just a boy, even so. A boy lasted a weekend, at most. Boys were fading, always temporary. Girls were resilient, ever-lasting, real life. Boys were fun for three days, tops. Girls- _Maya_ \- meant something. Girls were a promise.

Riley paused, then laughed, and though nasally and choked, the sound meant the world to Maya. “No, he’s not. Not the worst,” Riley said. Not particularly defensive- just earnest. Accepting of the fact that the boy who dumped her over the phone happened to be, at the same time, a well-mannered, kind hearted boy, the kind of boy who wanted to help people. Riley might say- some other time, eyes dry and to the sky- that people were _like_ that. Even when they were good, sometimes they hurt one another. Which was a fact of life to Riley, but not an earth-shattering one.

Humans can and will do better than their worst moments.

(Yeah, Maya _hoped_. But where was the threshold? How could she know?)

Maya wanted to disagree on the entire notion that Lucas was good, regardless; the facts were laid out, and it was clear, because who could be so insensitive, so ungrateful? Who could throw something like Riley Matthews away?

It seemed hard to imagine, until Maya remembered how she had pushed Riley away from her and in to Lucas’s arms, and almost got it. _Almost_ , before shaking away visions of the past and remembering the task at hand, remembering that Lucas, surely, does not know the deep and complicated feelings of _not-pining_ that Maya does, that boys aren’t so intellectually stimulated.

In the evening air, Maya was between confused and angry, and Riley seemed to be recovering. How miraculous. “He’s terrible,” Maya continued, crossing her arms, as if anything and everything she said subsequently was marked to be a matter of fact.

It was hard to say if it was more to comfort Riley, to let her know that she hadn’t lost anything special, to affirm that she was better off without him, or if really, it was more for Maya’s own peace of mind so that she may feel justified in hating him herself.

“I don’t think he’s terrible,” Riley admitted, wiping at her red eyes in the low light, moving to her bed to get a tissue, leaving Maya alone in the fragments of streetlights. Riley was almost levelheaded, earnest, though her voice still cracked on high notes.

“It wasn’t going to last forever. He’s Lucas, and he’s great, but we weren’t even much of a couple. We were basically just friends, but with a different name,” she said, tucking tear-damp hair behind her ears, trying to ease the evidence of any previous downfall, voice lighter, now, shoulders set easier. Eyes so bright.

“Still,” Maya repeated, already irritated by her own petulant redundancy, but still indignant, not willing to acquiesce to any kind of hasty forgiveness allotted to this _boy_ , this boy who had stolen her heart and then _wasted_ it.

(Not just any boy, she supposed. Lucas, despite the bitterness in her mouth as he spoke to Riley, was their friend, _her_ friend, in name, at least. Not a stranger, not something so easily pushed out, passed on- not just _a_ boy, but Lucas, her enemy, her friend. Lucas, who, before tonight, perhaps beyond tonight, is Not So Bad. Lucas, who maybe ruined everything.)

And, it was easy for Maya to say that she would never have done something so foolish as Lucas had done, but she couldn’t prove that. Not for sure.

“I mean, we’re all still gonna be friends, three days from now,” Riley said quietly, quite sensibly. She sounded much more mature than Maya felt, voice even and eyes to the ground. “It’s just… It just,” Riley breathed, voice catching before trailing off.

“Sucks,” Maya finished. Okay; that’s fair. More than fair. And, surely, Riley Matthews is a tear-streaked angel, not meant to be placed in a world full of _boys_ , who always ruin everything with clumsy hands which never know anything of the complex ecosystems which they stumble in to from Texas.

“Yeah. Sucks,” Riley echoed, doe eyes large and watery.

Maya took a moment to be thoughtful. Maybe, to Riley, it was just the principal of the thing. Not to Maya. It was still beyond her comprehension how or why anyone would do that to Riley Matthews, of all people. Was Lucas just a fucking idiot? Was there some other girl? How anyone could compare to Riley, Maya may never know.

 As Riley composed herself, Maya’s head spun and she rung her hands, teeth grinding together. Her ears rang with hot-breathed envy and righteous indignation, and it was enough to send her out, out, out, and up through the streets as if in a dream, because she had _something_ she had to say, even if she wasn’t sure what it was.

And so, she left, which was more than enough to leave her with eight missed calls by the end of the night, and against the code of honor by all means, and which was very much as close as she never wanted to get to leaving Riley when she needed her, despite Maya being sure answers alone could fix this.

Maya knew for a fact that Lucas’s house was no more than ten minutes East of Riley’s own, and that was the kind of dangerous information that could, of course, make all the difference. Though her head was teeming with questions on Riley’s behalf, the one on her own drifted below the surface, weighing her down: how could he leave it all so _open_ to Maya? How could he take away the best excuse she had for staying so silent, so stagnant in every painful, pining move? _Riley has a boyfriend_. That was all she needed for every touch to linger inches further away than usual, all she needed to justify her own cowardice.

Which, probably, was the most selfish reason why Maya had pushed them together in the first place. Because, as long as that was going on, Maya could trick herself in to thinking that there was nothing, _nothing_ there. No empty space for a hand to reach to in the dark. With Lucas, there was no _almost_.

Because wasn’t the certainty of separation easier than the too-blurry haze of _maybemaybemaybe_ late at night and under tangled sheets? Wasn’t knowing her odds equal parts relief and condemnation?

Because, with Lucas, most of her false hopes that she tried to swallow so as not to drown in were wiped out completely. Enemy or friend, he had done that much for her.

Despite all of that, and Maya’s most logical thinking, it didn’t change the fact that, whenever they were together, she wished that they weren’t. Could she ever be fucking happy? Wasn’t _anything_ enough?

Knowing her odds was too certain, she hated Lucas, wished they would breakup. But him breaking up with her left it too ambiguous, what an idiot, who could _do_ that!

_God_.

Between incredulousness at Lucas’s own poor decision making and clearly skewed set of priorities and the fact that she no longer had any great defender of her own gutlessness, it was an easy night to make someone else’s problem about her, when it seemed like Maya’s own world was composed of nothing but problems.

Pounding streets, moving asphalt, waves beneath her under too-bright city lights that no longer made her feel clean, no more than a second to take stock of or justify or make any better decisions about what surely _must_ be done, no other option, just what her heart and head and lungs in between let her know was the end all be all of the night.

Because, God, wasn’t everything just so _important?_ Wasn’t it all so _life or death_ and absolutely _tragic_? Like nothing was more important than Riley, or getting to Lucas’s house, or catching her breath.

Everything was superimposed on the back of her eyelids, like she might die if she didn’t drink in every little detail before she had to face her _whatever_ Lucas was, before she had to bring her own brigade of protest against this big injustice that was not hers, or at least get some answers that were probably close to meaningless. At least it would feel nice to chew him out.

Could _anything_ be worse than watching her best friend go through a breakup?

Yes, but even so, it was all so highschool that Maya felt dizzy. But nothing but straight-forward confrontation and reckless anger could ease the spinning in her chest that came from things that mostly were not Lucas’s fault, things that were nobody’s fault, things that were Maya’s alone.

Hard to change her mind when her conscience was sitting at home, ten minutes away from where Maya stood now, knocking on the window of Lucas’s room, crouched down on his fire escape.

It took eight minutes for Maya to end up at Lucas’s window, knocking hard on cold glass with no clear idea of what time it might be. It took Lucas another thirty seconds to open up the window and usher her inside, urging her to be quiet as best as he could.

“Maya-” that was as far as he got before Maya cut him off because she couldn’t think to do anything else. He was disheveled, and it was late, and she was almost surprised to see him up, almost surprised to see someone so evil in her mind look so human and discontent, but it wasn’t enough to stop her.

“How _could_ you?” It was _painful_ for no reason, worse to ask than it had to be, incredulous. Because Maya didn’t want to be like _that_ , didn’t want to declare that, if it were _her_ instead of _him_ , she’d do it all so much better and smarter, but it was _hard._

“I don’t-”

“No! Stop talking. God, do you _ever_ stop talking?” Maya pressed, even though she, herself, was nearing a loss for words. “God. Listen, what the fuck were you _thinking_ , Lucas? Are you- I don’t know, are you fucking stupid?” Forgone any better nickname for a matter too serious to express with a light tone. Too serious to express with words, a highschool breakup, but she was so _mad_ , and the moonlight in her eyes was _blinding._

“No, Maya, but-” Lucas ran a hand through his hair, short and messy.

“Was she not enough for you?” Maya crossed her arms, felt small and powerful all at once, almost felt bad, decided against it when she remember how Riley had called her crying.

“Is that why you came here?” He asked her, voice even, eyes low. “I mean, I guess I had figured. I mean, you’re like that, with her.”

“What’s _that_ mean?”

“I didn’t _mean_ anything by it. I just guess I should have known she’d call you and you’d show up here _right now_ , _tonight_ , and that if I’d figured that out, I would have had some coffee or something. That’s all.”

“Of course, I’m gonna come here!” Maya expressed, pacing through Lucas’s room, head in her hands. “Don’t you know better than to hurt her?”

“It’s- it’s not _like_ that. That’s not what I wanted,” he said, motioning his hands outwardly in an emphatic but otherwise purposeless manner. His voice was very steady, a little solemn, rusted by early morning. “But it’s not like we’re little kids anymore, you know? Like… it sucks,” he sighed, long and deep. “But she’ll move on from it pretty fast. Like, she knows that it’s not like when we were twelve and thought relationships were, you know, fairytales. She’s my friend. _You’re_ my friend.”

“Are you listening to anything I’m saying?” Maya said, placing her head in to her palms, resisting the urge to shout. “Lucas. How could you be so stupid? Do you have any idea how great she is?” Maya tried to stay calm though her voice shook, and her words came out flat and panicked, sounding foolish and young.

“Of course, I know that, Maya,” Lucas agreed. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like he _knew_ all along, when clearly, he didn’t.

“Then what are you _getting_ at, here?” Maya demanded, face red, biting at her lip.

“I love Riley, but it’s not about me. I know that.”

“Oh, so it’s not her, it’s you, is that it?” Maya laughs and it’s short, sharp, bitter. She hates the way she sounds, hates the way he sounds, too. Nobody is talking like themselves, it’s like she’s watching herself from outside herself. Whose words is she speaking?

“No, no,” Lucas backs up. “It’s not like I don’t like her, or don’t know how great she is, okay? I promise. I do. But, like… me and Riley? We’re not… like that. She doesn’t look at me like that. And that sucks, but I _get_ it,” he stumbles over some words, but nearly finishes before Maya interjects.

“Don’t put words in her mouth, you don’t know what she’s feeling! She was crying. She was crying, and you’re feeling _oh-so sorry_ for yourself.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do, but I’m her friend, too, and, like… I know when someone’s looking at me like that, and she _doesn’t_. She only has eyes for you, alright? You two only have eyes for each other. Everyone knows. And I can’t just pretend that it’s not happening, I’m not going to _do_ that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Maya swallows, takes a beat, says nothing, and she is totally unnerved. Totally unnerved as he goes on- does he _ever_ stop talking- rambling about how they are _friends_ , Lucas and Maya, promising her things like he _knows_ when she’s lying, _knows_ that it’s scary, _knows_ that it’s pointless to go on with Riley, tells you he can’t keep doing it to either of you, like he is some savior, like he’s done anything but fuck you over, what a _know-it-all_.

Still, she’s speechless. And she _hates_ him for that, hate him for taking her breath and her words and her truth and verbalizing it before she _ever_ could, throwing her in the midst of something she _never_ wanted to have to deal with, doing the opposite of what she intended him to do.

_People are like that._

People are the worst. Before Maya can tell him that, let him _know_ that he’s done something he can’t take back, tell him he’s the worst, her phone buzzes in the pocket of her jacket, and all it reads is that Riley _needs_ her, that she wants Maya to come back, that she doesn’t want to be alone.

What Maya thinks is the smarter half of her tells her that maybe Riley’s playing it up to pull you back from Lucas, because she doesn’t know what kind of damage Maya could be doing, that she doesn’t really need Maya, never has, not like Maya needs _her_ , like Lucas knows Maya needs her, but she doesn’t care, and so she makes her way back home without another word to him because _he understands_ , or pretends to, in that knowing, calm way that makes Maya’s shoulders itch.

The air is cold and dizzying, lingering around Maya’s neck and shoulders, gripping her with things she is not ready to come to terms with, and the whole way home she cusses Lucas out in her head for ever making it so blatant and bright, a blinking neon sign in her bedroom window demanding that she take the best thing she has and hold it close instead of pushing it away because, _goddamnit_ , it is not that easy!

Nothing has ever been that _easy_ and it makes Maya sick as precipitation gathers on the Earth around her without rain, and she is shaking by the time she makes it back to Riley’s room and offers everything she can muster without the pain in her chest becoming immeasurable.

“What did he say?” Riley’s voice is patient, waiting. _What did you do_? She doesn’t say it, and Maya is thankful.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” She doesn’t believe Maya, and Maya doesn’t blame her, is thankful she doesn’t press further, until her back is against the wall and she is struggling to breathe, all of the empty spaces filled up with things she is too afraid to say.

Riley leaves her that empty space in the darkness, and Maya is grateful for that. Riley, heartbroken and face still streaked from silent weeping, is doing everything she can to make it easier for Maya, is still holding her up and together. _Of course she is._

“We’ll all still be friends on Monday. I don’t think he wanted to hurt you,” Maya sighs and it’s deep and hurts her throat, she can feel the weight of the world on her chest endlessly, is becoming more terrified of the empty and open spaces as they surround her and anything she might say so late threatens to invade. “We should get some rest.”

Riley complies. Time is immeasurable, but eventually, her breathing is steady and kind, and Maya cannot say the same thing for herself.

Her body threatens to run off without her, leaving her, forever, in Riley’s room, in Riley’s grasp, as Maya’s body slips out the window and walks through the too-wide streets, an endless night of _what can I do_ that may never end, but she is strong, she stays put, and she considers the way Riley looks at her, and what Lucas has done to or for Maya, and what that could mean for tomorrow.

Because Lucas, she thinks, is not the type to give up without a fight, not unless something is true, and inevitable, and he sees it so.

So maybe there’s something there.

And, not now, but maybe tomorrow, in daylight and open air, Maya stands a chance. And maybe that’s enough, and maybe that’s a kindness that Lucas has done for her, so she sends him a text to say a doubtful, late-night _thank you_ , and hopes that she will be able to reap the consequences of such humble action when Riley is awake again, and maybe everything seems less tragic and doomed.

**Author's Note:**

> leave a review or a damn editorial xoxo i live for validation, and analysis i want just. a full in depth thought process on this even if u hate me and think its a bad fic i hope u enjoyed it tho. love u all my rilaya bitches


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